Ask me not for praise
As you die.
All things born die
As all things born breathe, eat, excrete,
Asking not for praise
As they do.

Tell me not of your fear or loneliness
I will praise you not for that,
But rather tell me how you learn from
This death.
Tell me what insight this death
Has stamped upon your soul
And I will praise you well
As any school graduate.

All things born die
As all things born grow.
Tell me you have gained wisdom
In death
And I will praise you
For being alive.

                                           S.D.  3/11/96